


'Tis the Season to be Sulking

by thewickedloki



Category: Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Loki is an idiot, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 13:31:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1094425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewickedloki/pseuds/thewickedloki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki hates Yule. Loki is also an idiot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'Tis the Season to be Sulking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scarletsherlock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletsherlock/gifts).



There was nothing Loki hated quite so much as Yule, but as Thor had threatened to lash him to a chair in the great hall with a giant red ribbon and force feed him sugared plums while they sang carols if he complained about it again, he opted instead to sulk quietly in whichever darkened corners of the realm he could find. This proved increasingly challenging, however, as the entire population of Asgard seemed determined to hang decorations while drinking spiced wine and attempting to sing wherever he was trying to read. Yule was not only inconvenient, but apparently contagious.

Worse, though, was watching Sif. He'd done an admirable job making himself miserable every time he thought about her lately, though no one seemed to notice that his irritability stemmed from melancholy rather than just his obvious discontent with this ridiculously cheery holiday. No, Loki's primary problem was that he noticed everything. Sif was beautiful in any weather, but for some reason, this particular winter seemed to bring out a fresh brilliance in her that either he hadn't been previously aware of, or that truly was more profound than it had ever been. The chill kept a continuous blush scrubbed onto her cheeks, and her hair was down more often than it was tied back to keep the cold air off of her neck. The sparkle of the sunlight dancing across the snow as if it were coated in thousands of minuscule diamonds was nothing compared to her eyes when she laughed, and since the very first snowfall of the season, she had laughed quite a bit. Sif was breathtaking, and every last moment of her attention seemed to bring joy to those around her.

None of this would be quite so depressing if he'd been the recipient of any of it.

Worse, it seemed more and more likely that he was the only one of their little group who hadn't received any of her attention. Worse _still_ was that it was very clearly his own doing, no matter how diligently he tried to manufacture a reason why someone else was to blame. Sif simply had no patience for convincing someone to enjoy a holiday they were determined to loathe as stubbornly as he was.

He knew Heimdall was watching. Heimdall was always watching, damn him. Ever since the incident with Sif’s hair, the Gatekeeper had made it his personal, if unofficial, mission to keep far too close a watch on the prince whenever his sister might be even remotely affected by his actions. Over-protective bastard.

Loki huddled into his cloak and closed his eyes, determined to ignore the crisp bite of approaching midwinter if it killed him, and everything associated with Yule. The book settled in his lap remained unread, as it had for four days now. It was his routine now to pull the tome from his shelf, spend one to three hours attempting to avoid everyone in the palace without resorting to magic, failing spectacularly, and vanishing himself to some far off corner of the countryside when someone tried to hug him. Once there, he invariably spent another hour walking through the snow trying to find a quiet place to sit, and then had to give his fingers time to warm. That gave him time to think, which meant that he was thinking about Sif, and before he knew it, the sun was beginning to set, and so he had to begin the long walk back to the palace. Simply teleporting back would mean the possibility of accidentally running into Sif, and that would... no. No, that would be... no.

He sighed and opened his eyes. Eventually, this ridiculous holiday season would be over, and things would go back to normal. For now, every time his eyes caught some shadow flitting across the snow, he wondered if it could be Sif, and then reminded himself that he was an idiot. Sif was at the palace sharing drinks and making everything so damnably pleasant and agreeable. He was behaving like an adolescent, running away from her, running away from everyone else's happiness... he let the breath slowly out of his nose and watched it steam.

This was ridiculous. He was being driven out of his own home by golden bells and flavored ale. Loki stood and tugged the cloak more tightly around himself, scowling at the sky. "Do you find this entertaining, Gatekeeper?" He trudged through the snow, muttering to himself. "Damnable bastard, it's no wonder the Midgardians think we're going to kill each other at Ragnarok."

He clutched the book tightly to his chest as he made his way carefully out of the overgrown forest and back onto the road that would lead him back to the city, mind racing. In the past four days, he'd seen enough to make him consider Jotunheim as a viable alternative for this wintery misery. Four days ago, Volstagg and Sif had shared a meal together in the tavern they'd all frequented together last season, but it had just been the two of them. Loki had it on good authority—which of course meant his own—that Volstagg was courting elsewhere, and it was more likely than not that he was discussing the matter with Sif to get advice, but that didn’t change the fact that his gut had twisted just a little when he saw Sif press a kiss to Volstagg’s cheek.

It had been worse three days ago when he’d witnessed her sparring with Hogun, and the two of them had ended the bout rolling around on top of each other as they struggled for mastery of a wooden practice sword. He was more or less certain that it was only about the sword, of course, but when she ended the bout sitting across his hips with a wide grin, and Hogun’s hands were on her waist while the practice sword rested over his throat, Loki’d found himself urgently needing to find occupation elsewhere.

Two days ago, he’d almost run into her and Fandral as they turned a corner in the palace, both huddled together under his cape. He’d ducked quickly into another room with a mumbled excuse, but curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he peered out to watch them walking down the hallway with his arm around her shoulders and her arm around his waist. When Fandral rested his cheek against Sif’s hair with a bright laugh, Sif’s arm slid up his back under the cape, and Loki spent the rest of the day scowling.

Yesterday, though, had been the worst. Yesterday morning, he’d woken early, as was his custom, and on his way down to the kitchens had nearly knocked Sif over as she stepped out of Thor’s bedroom, tugging her hair into a high ponytail. Without waiting for any sort of explanation, Loki had brushed past her with the backs of his eyes burning.

That was the image that haunted him as he trudged through the snow back toward the palace today, shivering under his cloak. That Sif’s affections had never been shared with him was no fault of anyone else’s, and it galled him. She had not been interested in him, and he had never told her how he felt about her. Even if he had, there was no guarantee that she would have reciprocated, anyway, and after having seen her exiting his brother’s bedchamber at such an early hour, he was quite certain that he was deluding himself if he believed he’d ever had a chance of earning her love. She owed him nothing simply because he cared for her, but that didn’t minimize the pain that accompanied thinking of her, nor did it ease the resentment he felt for his brother and their friends for being so close to her when he was not, even though he knew it was an irrational and unjustified resentment.

“You must be so entertained, Heimdall,” Loki muttered, his breath rising in little clouds as he spoke. “You can have a nice, self-satisfied Yule knowing that I won’t be going anywhere near your precious sister.” Tears stung at his eyes, and his lip curled. He disgusted himself. He could barely get through Yule as it was, knowing that any gifts he’d chosen for his loved ones would be overshadowed or indeed passed over when he failed to summon the exuberance that everyone else in Asgard seemed to have. This was not a season for men who preferred quietly reading alone to boisterous celebrations, and the very nature of his personality seemed something to be ashamed of when Yule brought out the desire for feasting and drinking in all the others. Now, with these thoughts swimming through his mind of how he was not going to be with Sif, of how he was clearly deluding himself to hope otherwise, he wasn’t sure how even hiding in his room would help him through this miserable holiday. He couldn’t focus on the words he read for thinking of her. How else was he to escape?

So caught up in these self-defeating musings was he that he didn’t see Sif until she gripped his upper arms and shook him gently, her lips parted as she smiled. “Loki, you’re hundreds of miles away.”

He stiffened, heat rising in his cheeks, and hoped the Gatekeeper could see the rude gesture he was making behind his back for what was sure to be Heimdall’s amusement at the situation. “Forgive me, Sif, my mind is occupied. Excuse me.” He moved to pull away, but her fingers tightened, and he swallowed.

Her smile faded around the edges. “Loki, what’s wrong with you lately?”

“I don’t particularly care for Yule. This is hardly noteworthy.”

Her eyes narrowed. “It’s more than that. Something’s bothering you.”

“There are more pleasant things to occupy your mind with, I’m certain.”

“I’m sure there are, but right now my mind is occupied with you.” Her hands slid down to his wrists, and it was all he could do to keep from shivering. “What’s wrong?”

“Why not ask your brother? I’m sure he’s watching.”

“Because I’m asking you.”

“Why does it matter? You have your friends and your lover to attend to, leave me be.” He pulled away from her, but stopped short when her hand clamped down around his cloak and she yanked him back.

“Excuse me?”

Loki swallowed again. “I’m sure Thor and the Warriors Three are off getting drunk somewhere. Go join them and leave me alone.”

Sif watched him quietly for a moment, eyes widening. “You think I… with _Thor_?”

“I could not care less who you bed, Sif.” 

She blinked, then smacked the back of his head. “ _That’s_ what’s bothering you? That I’m spending time with _our friends_ instead of following you around trying to talk you out of being miserable when you’re so damned determined to be?” Her eyebrows rose. “So Heimdall was right after all.”

“Have I mentioned how much I loathe your brother?”

“Many times.” She shook her head slowly. “I was in Thor’s room yesterday morning asking him if my Yule gift for you was silly or not, you ass. I went in early because your parents keep him busy all day and I didn’t want to run into anyone who’d overhear and then spoil it for you.” Sif sighed through her nose. “For such a clever prince, you really are an idiot, do you know that?”

Loki pressed his lips together and took several deep breaths through his nose. “Most people don’t strike their princes and call them idiots.”

She smacked the back of his head again. “Most people don’t know you well enough to know how much you need it. _Idiot._ ” She sighed. “I came out here looking for you so I could give you your gift before you go skulking off again and nobody sees you until spring.”

“I… you what?”

“Did the smacking jar something loose in that head of yours, Loki?”

“No.”

Her smile returned. “Did you really think that this year we were all going to just give up on you and not give you Yule gifts because you’re being an ass?”

His heart sank, and he cursed himself for having a momentary hope at all. How could he be so stupid? Again? “You _all._ No, of course not. You’re all determined to make everyone happy.”

“Don’t make me hit you again. Is it possible for you to just stop sulking for a moment and allow yourself to accept a gift without working yourself up to hating it before I even give it to you?”

He let his breath out slowly. “Yes. Of course, forgive me.” He forced a small smile. “What is it?”

Sif put a hand on either side of his face and pressed her lips to his. He made a soft sound against her mouth as she wound her arms around his neck, tugging him closer. She was so warm. He closed his eyes and slid his arms around her waist, his mind completely numb. There was nothing but the jolt of her singing along his nerves as she nipped his lower lip.

“It’s a request,” she said softly, brushing the tip of her nose against his. “That you stop being such an idiot and enjoy Yule with us, preferably sitting next to me so I can do that again.”

Loki grinned slowly. “Again? You want to do that again?”

She smacked the back of his head. “You really are an idiot,” she said, kissing him once more.


End file.
